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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850763">what we owe each other</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedinqhearts/pseuds/bleedinqhearts'>bleedinqhearts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Fluff, a dab of hate 2 love, all of the oikawa stannies been real quiet, bitches readin this tag &amp; realizing that this is def not gonna be a quality fic, but ever since atsumu showed up on da scene, i miss oikawa on gawd, look im just banging keys on my laptop ok, me??? writing a fic that isn't porn??? more likely than u think!!!, nonlinear narratives, spy AU, what the hell do i write half the time</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:01:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedinqhearts/pseuds/bleedinqhearts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>500 missions and you’re finally free, but he just might be worth staying for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oikawa Tooru/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>what we owe each other</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>NOW. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>Leave it to the agency to make a <em>funeral </em>of all things as tasteful as can be. It’s eerily smooth in its efficiency, running superbly better than a well-oiled machine — in fact, it’s so slick, so quick, that it might just be the oil itself. Closed casket. Black clothes. No eulogy. Say a prayer, if you please. </p><p>He might need it where he’s headed to.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>MISSION #118.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>You would think that having over a hundred near death experiences with someone helps form an unbreakable bond that cannot be recreated with anyone else, but your thoughts would be horribly incorrect. </p><p>“For the last time, Oikawa, I can do recon <em>by myself</em>.” You snap.</p><p>“Yeah, just like how you did recon <em>by yourself</em> last time, and our covers almost got blown.”</p><p>You roll your eyes.</p><p>He notices.</p><p>(<em>Of course</em> he does.)</p><p>“I’m just saying, I’m surprised you’re still alive if that’s how you’ve been doing your previous missions before me.”</p><p>You breathe in.</p><p>Five hundred is the golden number. Five hundred missions with him, and then you’re out for good. You can sip margaritas at bars full of tourists, and when you flirt with the bartender, it’ll be because you want to, not because you’re trying to play some sort of role to fool anyone who’s watching you.</p><p>(The thought of finally being free helps ease your annoyance with him, just the slightest bit.)</p><p>You breathe out.</p><p>“Eat shit, Oikawa.” </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>NOW. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Hajime Iwaizumi has his hands tucked deeply in the pockets of his trousers. He looks a little worse for wear than usual, but also like he’s ready to spring into action at any given moment. You can see why the agency praises him so much. </p><p>You don’t say anything for a minute, almost unsure if you can formulate a proper response without choking on the words. He seems to get it. He’s nearly as perceptive as the man in the casket is — <em>was</em>.</p><p>(He’s dead, <em>remember</em>? </p><p>He’ll never <em>be </em>anything again.)</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>MISSION #193. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>“The least you can do is laugh at my jokes.” He tells you this through clenched teeth that bares a faux smile, and you have an equally fake grin adorning your features as well as you reply.</p><p>“The least you can do is make them funny.” </p><p>His eyes narrow. Your smile is now genuine, one of pure pleasure at having successfully annoyed him.</p><p>(How immature the two of you can be, as if the stability of the Japanese government isn’t currently resting on the both of your shoulders, depending on the two best spies they have in their arsenal to gather the intel needed.) </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>MISSION #203. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>“You’re not a very good fake girlfriend.” His hand is resting on your waist, and you know how to kill a man with just your bare hands (and get away with it) eighteen different ways, but you think only two would really work on him.</p><p>(Damn him and his honed techniques.)</p><p>He seems to know what you’re thinking — he has this innate ability to do so, and it’s just so <em>infuriating </em>— and he chuckles. </p><p>“There are too many witnesses.” </p><p>He leans down to tell you this, lips barely brushing against your ear, so close you can feel his breath, and it’s the middle of summer in Italy right now, heat so sweltering and burning that you could catch on fire any second now, but not anymore because this intima– <em>proximity </em>is something all new. </p><p>(You are drowning in a heatwave, and only Oikawa is the one able to make you completely freeze up.)</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>MISSION #21. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>His grip is tight — inescapable. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that his lean figure and borderline slim physique does not do his strength justice; he is pure muscle and trained power personified, and it shows in how he’s pulling you up with just one arm.</p><p>You can’t say thank you. You’re well aware that it’s the least you could do for him (he did just save your life after all), but, well, he’s your partner, isn’t he? It’s the least <em>he </em>could do, considering the fact that he’s pretty much the reason you almost met your untimely demise today, anyway. </p><p>“You’re such a klutz, you know that?” He says afterwards, when the window of opportunity to express your gratitude passes. </p><p>“You <em>pushed </em>me.” </p><p>“The bridge is slippery! I lost my footing. How was I suppose to figure that you would go flying over the edge at the slightest touch?” </p><p>“Oh, fuck you.” </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>NOW. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>You’re wearing his jacket. </p><p>It starts to rain.</p><p>It’s the only thing keeping you warm.</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>MISSION #256.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>“Is that all you’re wearing? Have fun freezing.” He sounds like he’s teasing you, but he’s really not. Is this genuine concern for once? You want to scoff, but you feel a little bit soft at the prospect of someone caring about your well being for once. </p><p>“Oh, like you care.”</p><p>A beat passes.</p><p>A shrug of his shoulders, a tug at the sleeves of his jacket, and then…</p><p>warmth envelopes you; the scent of him clouds your senses, and you don’t think you could ever feel cold again. </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>MISSION #99.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>You kick him (<em>gently</em>, because despite popular belief, you can be gentle at times) to wake him up. </p><p>He groans.</p><p>“Leave me alone.”</p><p>“It’s almost our stop.” </p><p>“I was having a good dream.” He tells you this like you actually care, even though the both of you know that you certainly<em> do not</em>.</p><p>“I’d say ‘do enlighten me’, but the agency doesn’t pay for me to do charity work.”</p><p>“There’s a reason why it’s called <em>charity</em>, [L/N]. Do it out of the goodness of your heart.”</p><p>You bite back what you’re about to say; that you don’t think you <em>have </em>any good left in you. </p><p>“It was a sex dream—”</p><p>“I honestly hate you.” </p><p>“No, really, it’s a good one, you’ll love it—”</p><p>“—can’t wait to finally be rid of you once and for—”</p><p>“—y’know, you were looking absolutely <em>ravishing</em>—” </p><p>(You forget to stop and think about how much you hate yourself.)</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>A RESTING PERIOD. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>“I don’t hate you, you know.” </p><p>“That’s the liquor talking.” You’re both on a brief reprieve from work. One day is all the agency can afford to give the both of you, and then it’ll be back to business as usual.</p><p>(In typical Oikawa fashion, he decides that the two of you must celebrate getting shot at and not dying by drinking your assess off, despite the fact that you both need to be awake and alert in five hours to catch a jet to Beijing.) </p><p>“I think—” he continues. “—that you are actually a rather tolerable partner.” </p><p>“I should feel so flattered.” You say wryly. </p><p>“Did I ever tell you?”</p><p>“Tell me what?”</p><p>“You looked nice in Switzerland.” </p><p>(You play off the redness on your cheeks as a side effect of the alcohol you had consumed.)</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>MISSION #400.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>Your heart is slamming against your chest; there’s thunder in your ears and lightning surging through your veins. </p><p>
  <em>Tooru’s going in for the kill. </em>
</p><p>You close your eyes.</p><p>His lips are soft.</p><p>He tastes like spearmint gum. </p><p>(You reckon you could sustain yourself off a pack of it for the rest of your life as long as it continues to remind you of the feel of his lips pressed against yours.)</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>MISSION #393. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>“Close your mouth, I can’t handle sweeping away all the flies that are dropping dead.”</p><p>“I’ve never heard you laugh like that.”</p><p>“Well, believe it or not, you can be quite the comedian at times.” You tell him.</p><p>“I like your laugh.” </p><p>(In his ears, the sound of your joy is a symphony like no other; no orchestra could dare recreate the interwoven intricacies and intimacies of such a sound, and it scares him to death that he would do anything to hear it again.</p><p>It scares him even more at the prospect of you never being able to laugh, though, and so he vows to protect you with his life.)</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>MISSION #54. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>“What are you going to do when this is all over?”</p><p>“What do you mean?” You know exactly what he means, you’re just in no mood to deal with having a possible heart-to-heart with Oikawa right now.</p><p>“I know all about it; the whole entire five hundred missions deal. So, what big plans do you have for when this is all over?”</p><p>“Why do you even care?” You have binoculars pressed against your face, and you’re peeking into some Russian diplomat’s hotel room, watching their every move. </p><p>“Morbid curiosity. It’s only natural for a spy to want all the intelligence possible.”</p><p>“Just say you’re nosy.” </p><p>“So mean.” He mocks offense. You give him a ghost of a smile. You’re not sure if he catches it, but it’s Oikawa, so naturally, he does.</p><p>“I think I’ll be normal.” </p><p>“What, like this isn’t normal? Perverts do this shit all the time, and they’re average citizens in society.” He pokes the lens of your binoculars. </p><p>“You know what I mean.” </p><p>“Isn’t being able to pretend being normal good enough?”</p><p>“You tell me.”</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>MISSION #499.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>“One more, and we’re done.” The words taste bittersweet on your lips. </p><p>“You think you’ll miss it?”</p><p>“Miss what?”</p><p>“Being a… you know, <em>spy</em>.”</p><p>A brief period of silence.</p><p>“No.” You finally say, slowly but full of conviction. “I don’t think I will.” </p><p>He’s hurt. You can see him trying to play it off coolly, and you’re well aware that you didn’t word your answer properly. </p><p>“I’ll miss you, though.” You admit, and it is the truth, the honest to God truth, and never in your life have you ever told it to anyone before. It feels good. </p><p>“Really, now? Not the five star hotels and parachuting out of jets and getting into a good bar fight—”</p><p>“No.” A shake of your head. “Just you.” </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>NOW. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>You slip into the passenger seat of the car. Windows tinted so black, if it were silk, it would have been appropriate funeral attire. It’s a wonder how he can see while he drives. </p><p>“Retirement’s gonna be a blast, y’know.” </p><p>“Imagine actually drinking to get drunk and not having to shoot at someone while hungover.” You muse.</p><p>“I can’t believe not one single person shed a tear at my funeral.” Tooru says. “If they want people to actually believe I’m dead, the agency could’ve put more effort into stressing the importance of realism.”</p><p>“If it’s any consolation, I did ask to be allowed to jump into your grave when they started to lower your casket in.” </p><p>He laughs, and you laugh with him.</p><p>He shifts the gear of the car, and the two of finally start living. </p>
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